The Body on the Pyre
by nurzubesuch
Summary: He is dead. Finally after so many years, the killer of his father is dead. That's the one thing, Mohinder had always wanted to happen. Then why can't he feel happy about it? Tag to "An Invisible Threat" no slash


**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

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><p><strong>The Body on the Pyre<strong>

Mohinder didn´t know what he was supposte to feel. What he was supposte to believe. The man that lay on the pyre before him was dead. There was no doubt of it. He was no medic but he´d learned the profound knowledges of medicine and he could tell that the man was dead. Even if he should be able to regenerate, after the fire had consumed his body, he would be dead for good. That was the reason why they were doing this. To make sure he wouldn´t come back again. Like the first time. No, this time he would stay dead. Forever. Then why was it so hard for him to believe that this here was really happening?

Maybe because he´d never really believed that this day would come. Maybe because he´d never been able to picture it. He´d wished him dead, sure. So many times. He´d hated him, tried to kill him, dreamt about killing him, to take revenge on him. But somehow he now realized he´d never been able to really believe that it would ever happen. Psychologists said one could only achieve a goal if he´s able to picture it in his head as if it was already real. Mohinder had tried to picture Sylar being dead, being no threat to this world anymore. But he´d never succeeded. Strange that he´d needed to see him dead for real to realize this.

Now it wasn´t necessary for him to picture it anymore. Now it was real. Someone else had killed the murderer. Not the son of the father he´d killed. But did this matter in the end? Obviously it did. On some level it did. Mohinder had imagined Sylar getting killed. He had wished for it. The man had been a monster and had to be stopped. But the idea that someone else should be the one who finished this job was startling. Not that he´d thought that he´d be the only one who ever could stop Sylar. God, no. He was no megalomaniac. But a part of him had hoped that he would be the one. It almost felt as if he´d been betrayed of that chance.

But of course that was stupid. Ridiculous. Sylar was dead and that was all that mattered. The monster couldn´t hurt anyone anymore. All these years of living in fear for the people he cared about were behind him now. No more wondering where Sylar was right now. If he was in the same town as Molly. If he was waiting behind the next corner for Matt. Paying a visit to the Bennet house or the Petrellis. None of this. He knew where he was now. And from that place he couldn´t hurt anyone. Not anymore. The hunt was over. The fox was dead.

A world without Sylar. Almost a paradise, wasn´t it? So much saver for everyone with an ability and also for some of the people without abilities. This man really had been a monster. He´d killed without a thought and never felt any kind of regret for it. Mohinder recalled how he´d justified the murder on his father. He´d betrayed him, he´d said. In his world that was enough reason to take his life. And the lives of all the others? Simply because they had what they didn´t deserve, following Sylar´s logic. Who was he to decide who deserved something and who didn´t?

But now he was dead and this question wasn´t relevant anymore. Sylar wouldn´t decide anything anymore. The world was safe. So why could Mohinder not feel happy because of this? Why didn´t he feel relieved? Was it simply that still existing doubt? His incapability to believe that this here was really happening? Or maybe it was the place where this ceremony was supposte to happen. Here on that ground that represented his own father´s crimes. Crimes that were not so different from what Sylar had done. That were not so different from what he had done himself not more than a year ago. What was wrong in this world? Had everyone of them this monster inside of them? Hidden? Maybe disguised as best interests? Had they? Maybe it was this thought that made the idea of Sylar being dead so insignificant. Because they all had something of Sylar inside of their hearts. Had they?

Mohinder looked at the face of the man, that had killed so many. That had killed his father. He had waited for this day to come, to see him dead. He´d wanted this to be a happy day. But he wasn´t happy. Not at all. Instead he felt somehow empty. Exhausted. It had been such a long way for all of them to finally get here. So many things had happened. So much more than he would have ever been able to imagine before he´d left Madras. So many extraordinary things. So many wonders. And so many horrors. This face was representative for almost all of this. And now it was dead. Soon to be gone, consumed by the flames. Mohinder was confused. He didn´t know what to feel in this moment, for this dead body that lay here before him.

He had known the man. In some weird way he´d known him. He had been his friend once. Briefly. Then, when he´d found out that he´d deceived him, he´d been his greatest foe. What he had been afterwards he wasn´t even sure. The man he was hunting of course. The one he´d been hunting all along, knowing that he would kill him for his father´s murder if he should ever catch him. He´d even pulled the trigger, knowing that he would take away a person´s life with that. The moment when his finger had pressed the trigger down and the explosion within the gun had ran along his arm, he´d felt the shock over his own action. He was a scientist and not a killer. And yet he´d done it. He´d actually pulled the trigger. But the shock about his own action had been replaced far too quickly to explore it.

Maybe it would have been better if Sylar really had died back then. Through his hand. Maybe if things had turned out to be that simple, he would have been able to feel something like satisfaction over Sylar´s death. The way he was supposte to feel it after revenging his father´s murder. But things hadn´t turned out to be that simple. Sylar had survived and Mohinder had been forced to hunt him again. The game had extended itself and it had lasted for years. Years in which Mohinder´s only real goal – he had had others too but in the end it had kept coming back to this one thing, the reason why he´d come to America in the first place – had been to find Sylar so he could stop him. Stop him from killing. Find him and stop him.

Now Sylar was stopped. He wouldn´t kill anymore. Mission accomplished. It was over.

Mohinder sighed heavily over that thought. It was over. Strange how these words could hurt. Over. And now? His mission was fulfilled. The monster was dead. And now? He had hated that man. He´d never stopped hating him. It had become a part of his soul. A bigger part than he had noticed so far. Now that Sylar was dead, this part seemed useless all the sudden. As if a part of himself had died along with Sylar. But that was ridiculous. It had been his goal for years to find that man and kill him. Now he was dead. He should feel liberated. But he didn´t. Only tired. And somehow even sad. What was wrong with him?

Finally Nathan came and brought the torch. He lit the bricks and the man that once had been Sylar disappeared behind the flames. The heat of the fire spread out and Mohinder could feel it in his face. Somehow this sensation made the whole arrangement more real for him. Yes, it was really happening. They all were really here. And this body on the pyre which got more and more consumed by the flames was really dead. Sylar was dead. And with that his, Mohinder´s goal, did not exist any longer.

Now that he looked into the flames that slowly ate away the man that once had been Sylar, he began to understand what that truly meant. And somehow it scared him. It scared him even more than Sylar could have done it while he was still alive. As long as the killer had been out there and he on his tracks, he had known what tomorrow would be about. Now that the hunt was over, he didn´t know that any longer. Once upon a time he had known what his mission was. To hunt down this killer and save the world from this threat. And now? What would be his purpose now? Going back to Madras to teach students again? About what? The basics of biology and genetics? Keep looking for people with abilities? Somehow he felt as if his days of searching out these people were over. So what was he supposte to do now? Where should he go?

Home, his logical thinking mind answered this question for him. It sounded strange in his ears. This word. Home. Before him the flames were rising higher and higher, up into the night. The last rest of Sylar was carried away in clouds of smoke and soon ashes. Mohinder sighed and lowered his gaze, finally able to take his gaze away from that fire. There was nothing left for him here in America. Not anymore. The monster was dead. His task was done.

„I can´t believe he´s really dead." he heard the quiet voice of Clair Bennet.

„He´s really dead, Clair." Noah answered her. „He really is."

Mohinder nodded to himself. Bennet was right. Maybe it was time to accept this one simple truth and finally let go of the past. It had been long enough. Yeah, maybe he really should go home. Back to where he came from. To where he belonged. Even if he didn´t quiet feel like that any longer. But who knew. Now that he didn´t have to watch out for Sylar anymore, maybe he could find that feeling again. Maybe he could finally find his peace again … and rest. Rest after three years without sleep.

One after the other the attendants of this funeral vanished to go on their own ways. They turned their backs on the fire and left behind what got burned there. The body on the pyre.

Maybe, Mohinder thought. Yeah, maybe he could go home.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading this little piece. Leave a comment if you like.<strong>


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